


you're going to die in your best friend's arms

by sa00harine



Series: now I finally made my way home [1]
Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Angst, Character Death, I'm Sorry, M/M, Not A Fix-It
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-20
Updated: 2020-08-20
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:08:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26015527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sa00harine/pseuds/sa00harine
Summary: well, eddie dies, that's it ladies and gentlemen and everyone :)
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Series: now I finally made my way home [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1888234
Comments: 3
Kudos: 10





	you're going to die in your best friend's arms

**Author's Note:**

> yes the title is a siken quote, sue me

“Eds?" Richie asks. "Eddie? Hey." He looks pleased when Eddie's eyes flutter open again. 

"Hurts," Eddie murmurs, pushing himself to sit up more. Richie helps- hands wrapping around his shoulders and boosting him. 

"I know, I know," Richie's saying. "They're gonna-" He spares a glance away from their unsafe safe little nook between the age old stone to see Mike and Bev advancing towards the clown that wasn't a clown anymore. Something bigger. Worse. Something that would not only make children cry, but adults tremble and fall back into everything they thought they'd outgrown. Bill joins after a split second delay, followed by Ben. They move as one, yelling, and by the sound of it, yelling with some fucking purpose. Hope blooms in Richie's chest until he looks back at Eddie. It sinks again. Sinks deeper than the fucking titanic ever could. An entire different ocean of black and blood and everything that maybe should have stayed buried deep but it's coming back in agonizing waves. Nothing floated down here, no, it was utterly suffocating. "They're gonna kill it. Then we're going to get you to a hospital, okay?" 

There's so much blood spilling everywhere- his mouth, his nose, his stomach, maybe even his eyes. Hell, it seemed to be coming out of the walls. There's a smile on Eddie's face. It's close-lipped and thin. His eyes flutter again. But before closing fully, they look over at Richie.

"Don't say that," Eddie whispers. His voice is so- his voice isn't weak. It's just quiet. But Eddie isn't quiet. He never was. His existence was- is a battle cry to Richie. "Richie." Eddie swallows, coughing up more blood with a rough sound. "Go with them. I'm okay." 

Richie shakes his head, humming an affirmative no. "I'm staying right here. Not leaving you, Eds" he says, unceremoniously cupping Eddie's cheek. The way Eddie leans into it makes Richie want to crawl into his skin. Or out of it. He's been trapped for so long. 

Even with his head, his entire self folded up there in Richie's hand, Eddie still fights. He takes measured breaths, trying to stay conscious for as long as he can. "Keep calling me Eds," he says softly. "You know, I-" 

As Richie's heart frantically traipses to something like the crest of a long-winded, subtle but ever present symphony, Eddie abruptly dissolves into coughing and wheezing. Richie feels the blood on his hands. He holds Eddie up. His body is too limp for comfort. "You what, Eds?" 

"I always-" Eddie gets out, one hand on Richie's knee and it seems to be scrambling for dear life. Richie thinks it's burning through the denim there. He thinks he'd be okay if he burnt to ashes right here, just beside Eddie. "Always felt like something was missing." 

Richie falters. "Me too," he agrees, one hand trying to separate Eddie's hair from the blood on his forehead. 

"No," says Eddie. "You don't-" He makes a small noise out of frustration or pain or both. "You were missing. Bill was missing, and Stan and-" He gives a nod to the others. "But  _ you  _ were missing, and I didn't understand-” 

“ _ Me too,”  _ Richie assures, catching on and barely speaking through the shock of not only being seen and known through and through but it being reciprocated. 

Eddie goes quiet for a second, eyes staring straight at Richie’s. “We could’ve- I always wanted kids, but Marty-  _ Myra  _ d-” He interrupts himself with a strained cough, blood falling from his lips and more gushing from his chest. 

Richie keeps his eyes on Eddie’s face. It’s all he can do to focus on that. “You wanted one named after your dad, Eds, remember? You- You-” He swallows the lump in his throat, tries to. Doesn’t succeed. “Frank? Frankie?”

“Frankie,” Eddie replies softly. “You’d have been good with them Rich, you know that?” 

He feels his heart do something it hadn’t properly done since he’d last been here probably. With Eddie, it was always Eddie. “Really?” He asks, voice cracking with emotion. “Always wanted ‘em too, birthday parties and watching them grow up, yeah?” 

Eddie nods, smiling at that but not replying. He had sort of gone still, hand on Richie’s knee falling a little. Richie slowly stops playing with his hair and a sob catches in his throat when he feels how cold Eddie’s face is. 

“Eds,” Richie says, somehow that sounding too loud. It had gone quiet all around. When had that happened? Why was it so quiet? “Eddie, hey..” Eddie doesn’t move, head lolling into Richie’s hand on his cheek. 

Feeling hot tears trail down his face, Richie nods emptily. That was it. The pinnacle and the rock bottom, all at once. He leans forward, hands on Eddie’s face trembling as he presses a firm kiss to the other’s forehead. 

Richie truly does not know how much time passes where he sits like that- thinking about a kid- a kid that wakes up to Eddie and Richie making breakfast together. A kid they could have because it’s what they  _ wanted  _ all this time and they’d let it pass because they’d never had the chance. That’s just it. They never got the chance. He thinks about Eddie, bleeding through his own sweater, Richie’s button-up, Bill’s flannel. He thinks about the bloodstain on his glasses and whether that’s making his vision blurry or it’s the tears. The damn tears, fuck. 

He loved Eddie. Eddie had loved him  _ back.  _ They’d never gotten the chance. 

When he feels arms wrap around his biceps- strong, Ben’s, Mike’s, maybe, he doesn’t have it in him to put up a fight. Bev’s hand sweeps through his hair and pockets his glasses. Bill grasps his shoulder for a second, but the grip is gone as the man turns to lead them out of there. 

And by the time the sunlight touched them, Richie’s throat was raw. He couldn’t tell you what he’d said- whether the words  _ love  _ and  _ eddie  _ and  _ sorry  _ came tumbling out an incoherent mess meant anything now that they fell upon deaf ears. 

Neibolt comes crumbling down and they watch it like it’s some sort of gruesome firework show. The rest cheer. He nods and smiles hollowly, wondering if Eddie’s heart was still beating down there. Wondering if there was a world where they’d gotten the chance. 

**Author's Note:**

> clearly I started writing this when I was in my feelings and I finished it again, in my feelings, surpise surpise ☆☆


End file.
